The Cereal Killer
by DecidedlyPositive
Summary: She blamed her sister completely for making her related to that colossal jerk by marrying Duck Head, Sakura agonized when she saw her new, infuriating brother-in-law eating the last of the damn cereal. AU/oneshot/ItaSaku


**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, either the manga or the anime or the characters or the story or the…you get the idea. .**

_"The Cereal Killer"_

_Summary: She blamed her sister completely for making her related to that colossal jerk by marrying Duck Head, Sakura agonized when she saw her new, infuriating brother-in-law eating the last of the damn cereal. AU/oneshot/ItaSaku_

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Sakura couldn't believe it. She would kill him. She would bake him by sticking his head in the oven and turning it up as high as it would go. She would stuff him in the trash compactor, and then use him as fertilizer for the garden. She would kill him and then bury his remains in the back yard to be found 100 years from now, and they would call his fossil 'Jerk-a-saurice'. People from everywhere would come to marvel at his _big, stupid, enormously inflated head_.

Because this was the _last straw._

She could deal with his damn rotten personality, she could deal with his pretty-boy good looks and his never-ending supply of superior smirks. She could put up with the fact that she had to see him at least once a week at the 'family' gatherings, which more often than not ended with her ready to murder him and him laughing his smug ass off at her fury. Hell, she could even stomach having to call him "onii-san" now, despite the fact that she thoroughly washed her mouth out with soap every time she did (it tended to make her feel rather dirty and unclean).

But the one thing she absolutely _couldn't _deal with was that the prick was sitting at _her_ kitchen table, using _her_ spoon and _her_ bowl, and eating the last of _her_ cereal! She mournfully watched as he lifted a spoon loaded with the delicious sugar-coated balls that she had so been craving right into his undeserving mouth. His tongue flicked out to catch the drops of milk that spilled from the spoon, and she could just _see_ him enjoying the sweetness of it.

This was not, absolutely, positively, _not_, on her top ten list of how she wanted to wake up each morning. For could there be anything more horrible than coming down to your kitchen, longing for something sugary and suitably energy-rushing to start the day, only to find your most hated enemy sitting there as if he owned the damn place?

Sakura didn't think so.

Oh, how she _rued_ the day her elder sister had met Uchiha Sasuke (fondly known to her as Duck Head, so called after his…unique hairstyle). How she _rued_ that day her sister had spontaneously decided that she was head-over-heels in love with Duck Head, for reasons that Sakura still couldn't quite figure out (she chalked it up to hormones). And how she totally, completely, and frequently _cursed _the day in which Duck Head had decided to ask her sister to marry him. To become one with him, to share his life, his heart, yada yada yada. Sakura hadn't really listened when her sister had tearfully babbled on about his proposal to her. She figured she had done her sisterly duty by not killing Sasuke on the spot for daring to propose to her sibling. Anything else was just extra, and not really worth the time.

She had actually been okay with it until the pre-wedding preparations had started. Duck Head wasn't such a bad guy when you got to know him, despite his standoffish tendencies and his morning grumpiness, and since he made her sister happy, she figured 'What the heck?' His parents were pretty nice as well, even though at first glance they were the type of typically stiff and snobby people you would think them to be because of their wealth.

So, everything had been going well for a while, back when she was happily unaware that Sasuke was not, as she had believed, an only child.

But then she had been asked by the Uchiha family and her sister to help pick out a proper location for the wedding. Since she didn't know then what she knew now, she had cheerfully, albeit stupidly, agreed. Besides, her sister had made puppy dog eyes at her. She could never resist those, for she had a great weakness for pretty, adorable things. In hindsight, she supposed that's why she accepted Sasuke to the extent that she did: when he wasn't scowling or plotting something, he did have a kind of girly, cute face that made her want to pet his head or scratch his ears like a puppy. Hell, his whole family was abnormally good-looking.

However, it was then that she found out that Sasuke had an older brother, who, she was told, would be actively aiding with the wedding preparations as well. In her sweet obliviousness (she now realized that ignorance really _was_ bliss) she had figured he would just be an older version of Sasuke. Maybe minus the duck hair though. And maybe a little bit more mature and not as brooding.

But Sakura had really fallen into the trap of people who automatically assume things. It turned out that her _idea _of Itachi and the _actual _Itachi were two very different entities. It was when she met him for the first time that she had discovered what a colossal _jerk_ the smooth-talking bastard was. And Sakura had never been one to let jerkiness go unpunished, even if the jerk was freakishly handsome as well as the Assistant Head of the Konoha Police Department. One of the greatest mysteries Sakura had yet to figure out was just how a sweet little woman like Uchiha Mikoto had produced someone with Itachi's personality. Her closest conclusion was that he was a genetic anomaly, or that he had been kindly adopted by the Uchiha family after the gypsies had decided he was too diabolical to keep around and kicked him to the curb. Both were plausible inferences.

It was then that the transition of the Haruno girls and the Uchiha clan into becoming one big happy family had transgressed into a beautiful (note the sarcasm) love-hate relationship (though admittedly without the love), courtesy of Itachi and Sakura. Or mainly, the only feud that existed between the two families was the one between Itachi and Sakura. Everyone else just smiled and got along, ignoring the two opposites who nearly always ended up bickering in a corner of the room somewhere at gatherings. One such memorable incident had involved a barbeque fork, a three-legged chair, and an emergency call to the fire department. When it came to Itachi and Sakura, there was a don't-ask-don't-tell-policy among the Uchiha clan.

Ah well. Fond memories aside, Sakura still had a problem on her hands. A big, annoying one. The biggest she had ever encountered in her nineteen years of peaceful (until she had met him) life.

Uchiha Itachi was still sitting at her kitchen table, still ignoring her presence, and still eating the thrice-damned cereal.

"Uchiha." She grimaced as she said his name—she could just feel the poison of it seeping into his mouth, leaving a horrific taste lingering behind.

Uchiha Itachi, age 24 and counting, glanced up from his busy occupation of consuming the last of his sister-in-law's breakfast cereal. It was a tad too sugary for his tastes, and disgustingly pink, but it did the required job of irritating the little pink-haired female.

"Ah, Sakura. I was wondering when you would decide to rejoin us in the land of the living," he said as he nodded at her in greeting. His eyes swept the length of her body, noting her rumpled hair and rather disarrayed clothing, as well as the still sleepily disoriented expression on her heart-shaped face. "Though I'm not sure you actually classify as being alive quite yet."

Okay, so she had just gotten up. Did that mean he had to be such a bastard as to mention it? She suddenly became aware of her big, pink pajamas that were two sizes too large, as well as the large nest of bedhead she was sure would be on her head. It didn't help that the Uchiha was sitting there, cool and well-dressed as usual, with nary a black, silky hair out of place or a wrinkle on his clothes.

Sometimes she _really_ hated him. "Hardy har har, Uchiha," she muttered petulantly. "I stand in wonder of your lame wit."

He looked at her amusedly, his dark eyes twinkling. "Your appreciation is noted."

Her eyes rolled—did they _really_ have to do this so early in the morning? Her brain wasn't exactly functioning yet. In fact, it didn't usually start functioning until after she had eaten some form of breakfast, something which didn't look like would be occurring anytime soon. Not since _someone_ had decided to steal the only available type of breakfast that was left in her kitchen.

And he was still staring at her. That was irritating. And creepy. Did he really have to stare? It was making her uncomfortable beyond belief. She crossed her arms defensively as he stared at her, snapping out, "What? Awed by my beauty?" She winced at how stupid that sounded, even to her. She blamed it on a lack of food, since it made her feel better in the aftermath of the comment.

Itachi looked a little bemused at the idea of being awed by Sakura. "You've got some drool on your mouth," Itachi told her calmly, returning his attention to his breakfast. "I'm flattered, but I don't think of you in that way, Sakura."

Sakura glared, her cheeks heating up in embarrassment, as she hastily wiped at her face. Dammit, the jerk was right. Must've been while she was spacing out, staring at the cereal. Yes, that was it; the cereal must've made her mouth water.

Heatedly, she said, "Don't worry, Uchiha, you'll never inspire drool-worthy reactions from _me_. I'm not one your brainless, air-headed admirers." God forbid and prevent _that_ from ever happening, she thought with a shudder. She had a horrible mental image in her mind of being one of those girls at the wedding who had been throwing themselves, their phone numbers, and, er…a few articles of _clothing_ at him as well. She felt rather bad for those girls, because they clearly didn't know what kind of demon lay beneath that sinfully beautiful exterior of Itachi's. Not that she would ever tell anyone of course. She found it rather amusing to watch him get tackled by adoring fangirls at social events. She had enjoyed watching Duck Head get mobbed as well, had even been so helpful as to purposefully point him out to the fangirls whenever he had tried to hide, but she had been cruelly denied that form of entertainment ever since he'd married her sister. So…that left her to be contented with watching Itachi get mobbed instead. All in all, it wasn't such a bad thing to have to settle for.

"Mm. I noticed. They're prettier, and they certainly don't talk as much," Itachi commented dryly, still not making any effort to look in her direction. Well, that wasn't entirely true—Sakura was by no means deficient in the looks department. But she didn't really need to know that. And he certainly wasn't the only one to notice: he had observed quite a few men at the wedding unabashedly staring at her, open-mouthed. At least they _had, _until he had stood by her, making sure to wrap his arm around her waist as they walked in the wedding procession for his brother and wife (that had earned him a painful kick to the shin, but he had effectively gotten the job done. The men had backed off, and Itachi had later gotten the worthwhile amusement that always came with teasing an irate Sakura).

Sakura inhaled deeply, closing her eyes briefly before opening them. _Must not let him get to me, must not let him get to me, don't give him that satisfaction, Sakura._ She would dearly love to know what it was about this man that made her want to either kill him, herself, or both of them at the same time. Whenever she was with him, it was like a perpetual itch that she couldn't scratch or soothe.

"Anyways, what are you even _doing_ here?" She asked, her eyes narrowing. "Aren't you supposed to be at work, saving people from burning buildings and rescuing kittens from trees?" Not being in her house eating her food and seating himself at her kitchen table like he belonged there?

"I'm not the fire department, Sakura."

Oh. Right. "I know that," she muttered grumpily, trying to cover up her mistake. "But why aren't you at work?"

"Because I'm not," Itachi replied blandly, not bothering giving a real answer.

Well, yes that was apparent. She was sure a vein was going to pop. She could just _feel_ it throbbing, waiting to explode in a mass of blood and gore. She'd always known that somehow, someway, Itachi would be the death of her. It had only been a matter of time from their first meeting. "Well, that's obvious! I can see that for myself, thank-you-very-much!"

"Your powers of observation continue to astound me."

Sakura put a hand on her hip, unconsciously jutting it out as she scolded him. "Well…even if you're not at work…just what gives you the right to come into people's homes and eat their only means of breakfast, you—you—cereal killer!" Sakura's eyes were becoming bright and angry, clashing with the darkness characterizing Itachi's as he raised his gaze.

Itachi quirked a black eyebrow, trying and failing to repress a grin. "Cereal killer?" That was one he hadn't ever been called before. Hm, she was getting more creative with her name-calling it seemed.

"You should arrest yourself, bastard! Breaking and entering into a defenseless female's apartment!" She shouted, supremely annoyed at his indifference. And she still hadn't uncovered the reason that he was actually here. Knowing him (which she considered to be the greatest misfortune of her life) he had come with the sole purpose to torment her. He seemed to excel at that. Instead of bowling or watching television like _normal_ human beings did, his entertainment was Sakura Torturing.

Itachi raised both eyebrows at her at her this time, looking unimpressed at her outburst. "I didn't break and enter, Sakura. Your sister gave me a key, remember?" Her sister, worried about leaving Sakura alone in their formerly-shared apartment after she married Sasuke, had given a spare key to everyone in the Uchiha family just in case. Her extreme measures weren't unduly caused—Sakura had the worst luck in the world, particularly in regards to things relating to the kitchen. It wasn't uncommon for her sister to come home and discover that Sakura had started a small fire in the kitchen or had tripped over a conveniently placed chair.

Sakura's eye twitched. "Oh." Dammit, she had forgotten that. Darn her sister and her overprotective tendencies. She knew her sister meant well but…she had no idea of the strife and headache giving that demon a key to her apartment would cause Sakura.

But Itachi wasn't done refuting her statement. "And I would hardly call you defenseless. You kick like a little hellion." He was living proof of that--the bruise on his leg where Sakura had smashed her foot hadn't gone away until many weeks after the wedding. Something which he had been mildly impressed by and Sakura had been duly proud of after Sasuke had informed her of it. In all honesty, Itachi couldn't understand her sister's concern for the little pinkette—if anyone attacked her she'd most likely just kick them or shout them to death. Sakura _did_ have an—extensive set of vocal chords, as he had been subjected to hearing them often enough.

Sakura wasn't exactly sure whether to be flattered or insulted by that. The safest course was probably just to ignore it, because whatever she said, he would surely have some sort of snide comment to respond with. He always did, without fail.

Sometimes she really, really despised being related, however distantly, to someone labeled as a genius (even though she was fairly suspicious of Itachi truly deserving that title. He certainly hadn't shown any latent stirrings of genius when she talked to him.).

"So, are you going to answer my question?" She shot at him, trying to fry him with her best Gaze of Fiery Doom. She hoped that with enough practice, she'd be successful in making him burst into flames one day, leaving behind only a small pile of Itachi-ashes. Then she could accidentally-on-purpose sneeze near them, scattering the Itachi-dust and obliterating any traces of him forever.

Unfortunately, unless she suddenly gained mystical powers, that probably wasn't going to happen. But she could dream. And dream she did.

"What was the question? You jump from topic to topic so quickly I have trouble following." Itachi studied her speculatively, though a slight mocking look entered his eyes. "Are you sure you don't have some latent form of ADD, Sakura?"

Sakura nearly face-faulted. "I'm perfectly healthy! And since I'm going to school to become a doctor, I think I'd recognize it if I did! But I don't! Have it, I mean. ADD." She shut up before she kept rambling, closing her mouth quickly before anything else could randomly drop out. Forget ADD, sometimes Sakura seriously wondered if she was cursed with diarrhea of the mouth.

Itachi was smirking, clearly resisting the urge to laugh at her from the way his lips were suspiciously tightening. "The question, Sakura? Your ADD got the better of you again, I believe." Itachi had difficulty drawing his eyes away from Sakura's furiously trembling body. This wasn't good—he was having far too much fun. That seemed to be a regular occurrence whenever he encountered Sakura, he distantly mused. Her reactions to things were perpetually amusing, particularly her reactions to him. For once in his life, he actually felt a semblance of gratefulness to his foolish little brother for bringing such an interesting girl into their lives.

Sakura fumed, her chest heaving up and down as she tried to find a happy place. A happy place far, far, away from where Itachi was. Preferably one that involved him being buried six feet under after being mysteriously strangled with a telephone cord that just so happened to be within her reach at the moment.

No, violence was never the answer, she reprimanded herself, shaking her head in determination. Besides, she was a doctor, or, at least, a doctor-in-training. It was her sacred duty to heal the corrupt, to comfort the wounded, to save the injured souls and bodies of the weak….

She glanced at Itachi, taking in his still-smirking mug. She scowled—violence may not be the answer, but it was incredibly tempting at times. Almost irresistibly tempting. And there was _definitely_ nothing that could save _that_ bastard's corrupted soul at this point in time.

"The question, _onii-san_, was about why exactly you have your royal Uchiha bottom planted in _my_ chair, in _my_ apartment_, _munching on _my_ cereal! In short, why are you here?!"

"Your car."

Eh? Sakura blinked. He was here for…her car?

She rubbed her forehead in confusion. Had she, by any chance, missed some very crucial detail here? Some part of the conversation that had indicated he was in need of her car? Wait. That didn't sound right.

Maybe instead of being asexual, like she'd always thought, he had some weird fetish with cars.

Well. That would certainly explain a lot about Itachi.

She looked at him uncertainly, still puzzled. "My car?"

He appeared to be rather impatient with her slow processing now. Enunciating carefully, he said to her slowly, "Yes. It is broken is it not?"

Sakura still didn't get it. Yeah, sure, her car was broken after she had accidentally ran into a fence while trying to make a U-turn. One of the fence posts had somehow snapped off and speared right through the front of her car, though she was unable to comprehend how that had actually happened. As her sister had told her on the phone, very matter-of-factly, it was one of those things that would only be able to happen to Sakura. Sakura snorted, so sue her, she wasn't the best driver around. Like the kitchen, she wasn't the most fortunate being when it came to cars. She sometimes thought they had some secret vendetta against her, because she'd gone through three cars in less than two years.

Wait. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, horrifying thought. How did _Itachi_ of all people know about it? It had only happened yesterday. The only person she'd told about it had been her sister, 'cause she'd had to call her and beg her to rescue her from impending death by car.

If the only person she'd told had been her sister, then…

She twitched. Please no…

Itachi leaned backwards in her chair, lips quirking. "Your elder sister called me, quite frantically this morning, saying something about not knowing how you would get to class today."

Figures. Her sister was fanatic about education, and was adamant that Sakura not miss any classes unless she was dead or dying from an incurable disease. A little thing like having your car destroyed apparently wasn't a valid excuse for missing school either.

"And?"

"And…I was pleaded with to take time out of my busy schedule to play chauffeur to you for the day," Itachi said, eyeing her amusedly. "To which I agreed." The thought of more time allotted to him to torment her had been an irresistible one. But again, Sakura didn't need to know that.

But…"Why couldn't _she_ have dropped me off?" Sakura asked curiously, her stomach churning at the thought of being indebted to Itachi for anything, despite how small the favor was. He'd definitely find some hideous way of making her pay it back. Something involving chains and slavery and hard labor, no doubt. Something beyond sadistic and cruel, mirroring his personality.

"She and my foolish little brother were otherwise occupied for the entirety of the day, and didn't have time to drop off idiots who wreck their own cars by running into fences," Itachi commented idly, though Sakura could definitely hear the smugness in his voice. She clenched her fist—did her sister really have to tell him that? Just because they were related (and Sakura didn't even actually consider herself related to anyone of the Uchiha family just because her sister had married into it), didn't mean that her private business was open for the whole damn family to peruse at will. Honestly, it wasn't necessary for the jerk to know the specifics of how she had wrecked her car, just that it had happened. It was yet another thing for him to lord over her.

Sometimes she thought the world was out to humiliate her in every possible way in front of this man. It appeared that between her sister, herself, and Duck Head they were doing a pretty efficient job of it too. If she had known that by giving her permission and heartfelt blessings to her sister and Duck Head to marry would bring her this much trouble, she would've flatly refused to acknowledge their marriage desires and excommunicated herself from the family if they had still married. But noo…she hadn't thought things through, and look where it had landed her: arguing with the demon king at six-thirty in the morning in the middle of her kitchen, enduring the agony of seeing her beloved cereal disappear down his throat.

The pit of dread was growing rapidly in her stomach now, making her insides feel all shriveled and nervous. She was going to have to spend more than the bare minimum amount of time with this guy?

Could someone just kill her now and relieve her of the stress that was undoubtedly going to come? Really. Seriously. Maybe drop a piano on her head, or possibly a safe? She'd even go for death by taxicab or something.

Desperately, she said, "It's fine, I'll just—find a ride with someone else…" She paused, wondering if anyone else even was available to get her to class. "I know you're probably busy, catching bad guys or buying donuts, or whatever else it is you policemen do…" Like eating innocent civilians' last supplies of cereal or taunting cute girls.

"Really, Sakura," Itachi chided softly, "Konoha will not be overridden with crime merely because I took the morning off to drive you to school." He watched her as she huffed, obviously annoyed at his destruction of her flimsy excuses. Raising an eyebrow, he told her teasingly, "One would think you don't appreciate my efforts to play the shining knight in armor."

That elicited a loud, disbelieving snort from her. The idea of Itachi being her knight in shining armor was the most preposterous thing in the entire world. And she didn't need rescuing from anything, she'd find some way to get to the university on her own, even if she had to walk the twenty blocks it took to get there. She didn't need his help, and she wouldn't ask for it even if it meant she got kicked out of class for being late!

Abruptly turning, she stalked off towards the door leading back to her bedroom, her pajama-clad form radiating stubbornness. "Sorry to waste your time, Uchiha, but I don't need you to drive me anywhere."

"Oh?"

"Yes," she replied, not being able to repress the childishness she was feeling. What could she say? Uchiha Itachi brought out the worst in her. "I'll get there on my own. Just watch me."

"How?" Itachi's voice was plaintive, and had hints of humor in it. "Do you plan on walking, Sakura?"

"If that's what it takes, then yes," she snapped back, pushing her pink locks away from her face as she made to push open the door and escape from the demon in her kitchen.

At least, that's what she was going to do, until she felt someone tug on her wrist and pull her around and away from the door. "Wha—mmph."

Sakura's mouth closed mid-exclamation, as it had suddenly been filled with an utter taste of sugary sweetness and creamy milkiness. She forced her eyes to stay open, for they had the urge to close at the blissful taste only her cereal could evoke in her mouth. Her green eyes were large with surprise as she came face to face with Itachi's handsome visage, a half-smile playing on his lips as he held the spoon of cereal in place. The place in question being Sakura's mouth.

"You may finish the rest of my cereal, Sa-ku-ra, since you were so intent on the wrongness of me eating it before," Itachi told her, ignoring the muffled noises coming from her mouth. With his free hand, he wrapped her fingers around the bowl of cereal. "I'll be out in my car until you're ready to go."

With that he allowed his hand to release the spoon he'd just hand-fed Sakura with (more like force-fed) and swiftly strode out the door, his black hair swaying with the motion. Nonchalantly, he raised his hand in a goodbye gesture as he left, seemingly oblivious to the Sakura-mess he'd left behind.

Sakura yanked the spoon out of her mouth, her pink brows furrowed and her eyes glittering menacingly. She stared vehemently at the spoon, and then at the bowl. At the spoon that had been in Itachi's mouth, and at the bowl he'd been eating out of. At the spoon that had been in _Itachi's_ mouth, and that had then been in _her_ mouth.

Only one thought was running through her mind as she powerfully hurled her precious cereal as hard as she could into the sink, absolutely detesting the stuff now that Itachi had violated it.

Sharing utensils were indirect kisses.

She and Itachi had just shared a spoon.

Ergo, Itachi had just stolen her very first kiss.

Ergo, she was going to kill him. Or at least maim him.

She'd had enough. Been driven past the point of insanity.

Yes. That damn cereal killer was going down.

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**Just a oneshot of Itachi and Sakura I wrote at night while plagued with insomnia (so please excuse any grammar erros). Really I should be working on my other fics, but I was hit with the bug of writer's block…hopefully it's passed a little by now. And yes, Itachi and Sakura are both a little OOC I guess…but when placing them in AU situations, it's a little difficult for them not to be, huh? :-) And Sakura, as you all know, doesn't really have a sister, I just made her up for the purposes of this fanfic. I had fun writing it, and I hope everyone has fun reading it!**

**I appreciate constructive criticism, helpful tips, or just plain ol' happy comments, so please leave a review!**


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